Death, Life
by Kuroi-cho-tsuki-shiro
Summary: Rukia begins to learn to live in the human world. A series of shorts based on the story of Bleach from Rukia's point of view. 2
1. Chapter 1

Everyone knew Urahara Kisuke. If they didn't know Kisuke, they knew of him. His reputation preceded him by some distance.

Rukia had not expected him to find her, but, nine days in to her first commission, she owed him her life.

"What will you do?" he had asked.

She was sitting on the floor staring at her reflection. It was definitely her; there was no doubt about that: her face, her body, her violet eyes, her hands clutching her knees. But she was not used to looking out at the world from a human body, even one that was an exact replica of her spirit-form.

Urahara was standing behind her, he was a tall man with flyaway blond hair and startling blue eyes, which he hid in the shadow of a striped, felt hat. An affectation of his. But, with Kisuke, everything was an affectation. Like her, Urahara was a _shinigami. _He had long ago been exiled from Soul Society for a crime that no-one seemed able to remember or else conveniently forgot for the simple reason that the man was useful. He had contacts in the human world, links to the spirit world and, to Rukia's great relief, enough compassion that he had come looking for her the night he sensed she nearly died. He, like her, had resorted to wearing a _gigai, _a false human body: "There's a human boy walking around out there with _shinigami _powers," he said: "Are you just going to let him run rampant?"

"Of course not."

"You'll report him then?"

"I don't know yet."

"Will you go back to Soul Society?"

"I don't know yet. Kisuke, what do human girls wear?" For now, she was dressed in a short, white _yukata, _but it wasn't the sort of outfit she had seen humans wearing.

"That depends what sort of human girl you would like to be." He grinned and ducked his face behind a fan he always carried with him. Something in his expression made the heat rise in her cheeks.

"The boy, the one who took my powers, he was a schoolboy. Can you find out which school?"

"All the humans in a ten mile radius send their children to Karakura High."

"He was fifteen, sixteen years old. How old do you think I look in human terms?"

Kisuke lowered the fan and attended her with a serious expression that made her pull the garment she wore more tightly around her:

"About that Kuchiki-_dono."_

"Really?"

"Humans age at a constant rate. Given the level of your _reiatsu, _he is probably aging eight to ten times faster than you. Although might I enquire as to your actual age?"

"I don't think that will be necessary." He smiled at that and brought the fan up again to hide his face. "A school uniform then. I need to find that boy."

"It would be my pleasure, Kuchiki-_dono_."

Rukia stood up and went to leave the room, but he called after her: "You know, they would be lenient if you contacted them now. They would understand. It's only been one night and your injuries were serious, but if you wait another day or two, or three, Kuchiki-_dono, _they will start to ask questions."

"I know," she said.


	2. Chapter 2

The uniform was not altogether practical. There were buttons on the blouse, which she found fiddly and awkward, and the skirt was too short, finishing several inches above her knees. But none of the humans so much as glanced at her in the school corridors, so Kisuke had been right about one thing: she must look young enough to pass for a high school student.

She had found the classroom easily enough and had introduced herself to a gaggle of boys near the door as a new transfer student. The ruse had worked and they had started talking to her.

Though she might look human, inside the _gigai_, she still ached and smarted from the injuries she had suffered the previous night. Kisuke's magic had saved her. The rest would heal in time. A false body had the advantage of obscuring her spiritual presence. So long as she remained in human form, then, she would not attract hollows and other unwanted phantoms. More importantly, it meant that her superiors in Soul Society would be unable to trace her.

She still had her pride. It would only be a few days, she told herself: a few days, and then her powers would return. After that, perhaps, she would turn the boy in, or maybe Kisuke could find a way to rid him of the powers she had bestowed on him. Either way, the one thing she refused to do was return disgraced to Soul Society. She had too much to prove.

Upon his arrival, Ichigo was greeted by friends. He seemed none the worse for his ordeal and Rukia felt a pang of relief quickly stifled by her own surprise at such a reaction. Had she been worried? Had she been afraid, even, that he might not turn up to school this morning? He took the desk next to her without bothering to glance and see who was seated there. That, she decided, was her cue.

"Kurosaki-_kun, _I'm pleased to meet you. I'm the new transfer student, Kuchiki Rukia." She curtseyed and held out her hand, on which she had, before arriving that morning, painstakingly written out a message for him: 'Make a scene and I will kill you.' It had the desired effect. He flinched, then stilled his expression, save for a tightening around his jaw. "May I speak to you for a moment, Kurosaki-_kun?"_

"Yes," he said woodenly.


	3. Chapter 3

Any semblance of politeness fell away as soon as they were out of the school building. He took her arm and marched her past the bike shelters to the edge of a series of squash courts: "Alright. We're alone. What have you got to say?"

She stared at his hand on her arm and spoke in a voice thick with implications:

"We're alone are we? And what exactly do you intend to do with me?"

"Shut up!"

"How rough you are! I'm scared!"

"I said, shut up! Where did you get such a filthy mind from anyway?" He let her go.

"I thought I'd try studying Japanese culture. I think I've learnt a lot already."

"What do you want from me?" He stuffed his hands into his pockets: "I thought this was over."

"That night, I gave you all my powers, so now you will have to continue my _shinigami _duties until they return to me. I've come to ensure that you will do that."

"No."

"No?"

"I didn't ask for your powers! I didn't want them!"

"Because of you, I'm stuck in this _gigai!"_

"A what?"

She caught her breath. This wasn't going to plan and arguing was going to get them nowhere. In the natural order of things, a human ought to obey a death god unquestioningly, but it occurred to her that he might not know about the natural order of things. She held out one hand in front of his face:

"It's a false body. Soul reapers wear them when they need to hide amongst humans." He frowned, staring at her as if she might sprout another arm, or leg, or head, at any moment.

"Even so, what does that have to do with me?"

"You saved your family, but there are still other hollows."

"So what?"

"So who will stop them attacking more humans?"

"I don't know and I really don't care. All I know is I don't want to see one of those things ever again, okay?"

"A _shinigami _can't pick and choose which souls he saves!"

"I'm not risking my neck for strangers!" He stepped past her, trying to go back to the school.

"You have to be willing to give your life for _any _soul!" she said desperately. The tenets of the academy that had trained her were the central poles of her existence. She tried again, handing them over as facts and struggling to comprehend his denial. She felt as if he was trying to tell her the sky was not blue: "You must be willing to die. This is more important than one life."

"No."

"We would gladly lay down our lives" –

"But I am not a _shinigami," _he said, turning back to face her. He didn't look angry anymore. If anything, he looked a little sorry and she wondered who his sympathy was for.

In the pocket of her skirt, the sensor she had purchased from Urahara chirped and she scowled. It was humiliating to be reduced to this.

The sensor, and a couple of other items she'd stowed about her person, were all illegal. Urahara's shop traded in black market supplies. The store, which posed as an ordinary grocery shop in a suburban district of Karakura, had served the _shinigami _for centuries. The sensor was disguised as a mobile phone for the sake of anybody who might need to use it, but it served as a substitute for her stolen powers, alerting her when hollows were near. A glove, which she now fished out of her other pocket, was something that Urahara had assured her would be useful.

As always, he was right.

Ichigo watched her curiously as she pulled the glove on. It looked as if it was made from leather and cotton with the motif of a skull encased in flames on the back. She fastened the buckle at her wrist and while he was still deciding whether to leave her there, standing in the schoolyard, she sprang forward and smacked him hard in the forehead.

She had half-expected it not to work, but instead of the impact of her palm against his brow, there was only an icy cold spreading up her arm. Her hand disappeared into his head, right up to the buckle on her wrist, and he rocked forwards. The light in his eyes faded. He pitched forward, his body collapsing to the ground, leaving a figure, clad head to toe in a black uniform, standing behind him.

Ichigo stared at his body:

"What did you do to me?"

"I merely released your soul," she said, stalking past him: "Come on, there's a hollow nearby."


	4. Chapter 4

His company was, she discovered, quite entertaining. The most mundane things were knew to him. The gentle hum of the spirit world, a whisper of white noise that she had become accustomed to, was a sound he had never heard before. He told her that the colours seemed paler now; less real. And he asked her if he was dead.

She'd laughed at that, explaining that she intended to return him to his body. He had calmed down a little then and asked if people could see him. No, no, only psychics. "Like yourself." Until she told him that, he had stiffened each time he passed a human. She had been pleasantly amused to discover that it was embarrassment at being seen in such clothes rather than fear of being discovered that troubled him.

The uniform, a black kimono and _hakama_, with a white _juban _worn beneath, was no simple matter of protocol. Souls, once released from their physical forms, manifested their possessions. For most, such items took form from their memories. A human who dies in a T-shirt and jeans usually appeared, in spirit form, wearing an identical ensemble. Soul reapers were the exception. Once their powers matured, the _shinigami _uniform was as much a part of their being as the swords they carried. Both sword and clothes could be discarded, but neither would cease to exist until such time as the _shinigami's _soul was destroyed.

Rukia had heard that such uniforms had been common amongst humans five centuries ago. Clothes, for males in particular, were simpler now. She recalled the trousers, shirt and blazer Ichigo had worn to school and smiled inwardly at the way in which he stalked along, self-conscious in his new attire. The swords, 'soul-slayers' or _zanpakuto, _were as unique as the _shinigami _who carried them. A red chain looping over his chest, held Ichigo's to his back. Perhaps because he had taken her powers, it bore a striking resemblance to her own, though larger, the pommel bound in red cloth. Though she was certain it would return in time, her own sword had faded with her strength.

Two roads down from the school there was a park. Ichigo stiffened before Rukia noticed the hollow, but, when she did, she was relieved to see that it was smaller than the one they'd confronted the night before. There was the same black body, the same skull-like mask. Yet each hollow was different and this one scuttled along on sixteen wiry, black legs. As it tore out of the trees a hundred yards from them, both _shinigami _could see that it was pursuing the silvery ghost of a child.

Without hesitation, Ichigo drew his sword.

"Don't," she said.

"What?"

"You said you didn't want to help me."

His eyes widened as he recognised her trap and, nevertheless, ploughed on into it:

"But I can't just stand here and let it take a kid."

"Why not? He's just a stranger. You can't pick and choose, Ichigo. We can't decide that one should live over another. If you save him, you commit yourself. Otherwise, let him die."

His hesitation lasted barely long enough for her to notice it. Then, with a cry of anger, he sprang forward and into the fight. She had known he would. She didn't know how she had known, but she had known.

The spirit of the child fell panting at her feet, but, for now, her attention was consumed by ichigo. He fought as if it were second nature to him. Now and again, she noticed that he was even able to thicken the air so that it lifted him up over the creature's head, allowing him to stab downwards into the hollow's unprotected back. True, his moves were clumsy, but she felt as if she was watching someone who had fought a thousand times before rather than a boy who had never held a sword.

Perhaps, she thought, she would not turn him in. If she told her superiors of his existence, there was a strong chance he would be put to death. Humans were not meant to know of the _shinigami _and the rule for protecting all of human life certainly did not extend to such aberrations as this. It seemed wasteful, though, to destroy him for her own pride. Unfair too, although that was of secondary significance. The _shinigami _did not recognise fairness as it was applied in the human world. There was only the balance of souls and the actions needed to maintain that balance. Still, she thought, it seemed wasteful.

He struck deep between the creature's shoulders, jumped to the ground and backed up to her, watching it howl in pain. When it was clear that its next strike would not be immediate, he turned to her:

"I'm not a martyr but I'm not a complete bastard either, you know."

The hollow howled and came for him again.

"Ichigo" – she began, but he was already aware. Feinting, he leapt out of its way, took leverage against the thin air and landed on the side of its head. Then he jammed the sword downwards, embedding it, to the hilt, in the demon's skull.

The hollow's outline blurred and then filled with light, which fractured, as she watched, and erupted into a starburst. The sparks faded like the embers of a firework.

Throughout, she had not taken a breath. She had killed hollows many times. She knew how they died, but it had been years since she had watched one killed. Actually watched. The scene chilled her because she knew something now that she hadn't known when last she'd watched once slain: soul reapers died the same way. In a burst of light.

"I think it's time you went to heaven," Ichigo said casually. The words brought Rukia back to herself and she realised he was crouching in front of the child's ghost, his eyes level with its face. It was staring fearfully at his sword.

He turned the weapon in his palm and gently touched the base of its pommel to the child's forehead.

A pool of light opened in the ground. Gradually, the spirit's form faded into it and the last thing Rukia saw were the familiar characters imprinted on its brow: 'death,' 'life.' The promise that it would be reborn in the other world. She turned and stared at Ichigo:

"You performed _khonso."_

He straightened, hefted his sword on one shoulder and swept past her:

"Get me back to my body."


	5. Chapter 5

He had plenty of friends, but he kept them all at a distance. That was the first thing Rukia noticed about Ichigo. He was often quiet and rarely laughed, though he tolerated and perhaps even enjoyed the company of his more ebullient classmates. The second thing she noticed was the way he watched her. She stayed with him from the beginning of the schoolday to the end and, for the most part, he seemed to sulk like a child in her company. If she tried to open a conversation, she'd be granted a sharp retort. They shared no other words for the whole day and yet, between lessons, if she got lost in the crowds of uniformed children or simply couldn't work out where she was meant to go, he'd be there, waiting for her, at the end of a corridor. He would always turn away before their eyes met. But he would be there. For the whole of that first day, he never once left her on her own.

Having nowhere else to go, after school, she followed him out into Karakura and, in one of the busier parts of town, their thoughts were interrupted by the squeal of car tires. Both turned towards the sound. There was a girl lying face-down on the tarmac and a car speeding away.

Ichigo started the run back. The girl was picking herself up. Rukia saw that she was a similar age to Ichigo and, as they reached her, it became clear that they knew one another. Ichigo reached out to her without hesitation. The girl looked up, saw him and quickly scrambled to her feet without taking his hand.

"Did that car hit you?" Ichigo asked.

"Yes. No. I don't know. Maybe."

"Maybe? It didn't even stop!" He scowled after the vehicle.

"Sorry," murmured the girl.

"You're sorry?"

"I don't know. I think I'm sorry."

He shook his head as if to dislodge the conversation, which was quickly becoming nonsensical:

"It doesn't matter. The most important thing is that you're alright."

"Oh, my lunch!"

She scrambled back out into the street again, where her shopping bags had been knocked out of her hands. When she returned to Ichigo and Rukia it was with handfuls of salvaged groceries. She grinned: "See? No harm done. I have onions and bean paste and the leeks are alright too."

"What were you planning on making?" Ichigo asked sarcastically, but then his voice softened: "Never mind. I'm just glad you're alright."

"I'm perfectly fine." Her face lit up as their eyes met.

Rukia found herself staring at them, aware of something unspoken. She was standing close enough to whisper to Ichigo without the girl hearing:

"Who the hell is she?"

"Inoue Orihime. She's in our class, you idiot," he said under his breath.

"Oh, Inoue-_san_!" Rukia cried, curtseying deeply to the girl. She'd raised the pitch of her voice too, as she'd noticed many of the girls did when they wished to seem endearing: "I am so pleased to meet you!"

Orihime froze and stared at her. At Rukia's side, Ichigo had stiffened:

"Orihime, this is Kuchiki Rukia, our new transfer student."

"Oh, Kuchiki-_san_, I'm pleased to meet you too," Orihime responded, managing a curtsey with a little more elegance. The awkwardness of the moment seemed to pass.

"Would you like me to walk you home, Inoue?" Ichigo asked. The girl's eyes lit up again:

"No, that's quite alright. It's not far at all, and it's out of your way."

"I don't mind."

"Inoue-_san_?" Rukia asked suddenly, forgetting to change the timbre of her voice: "That bruise on your leg; did you get it when the car hit you?"

"Oh, I suppose so." Inoue looked down, apparently seeing the injury for the first time, but Rukia had already dropped down on one knee and was studying it. Just an ordinary bruise, yes, but the trailing stripes that curled around Orihime's calf looked almost like finger marks.

In the silence that followed, Orihime crouched down so that her face was level with Rukia's and politely enquired as to whether she was alright. And so, for the second time in barely a minute, Rukia was forced to remember herself. In a world where ghosts and hollows did not exist, the rules of etiquette were different: a bruise was just a bruise, and it was inappropriate for her to be on her knees, staring at a strange girl's leg. "I'm fine, thank you," she said, straightening; feeling hot behind the ears. Orihime merely smiled tolerantly and turned back to Ichigo:

"Thanks Kurosaki-_kun. _I'll see you tomorrow." She turned away, then glanced back and, as an afterthought, added: "And it was nice to meet you, Kuchiki-_san."_


	6. Chapter 6

Ichigo's route home took him along the banks of the Karakura River via a deserted tow path. The sun was setting and the grass verge that sloped down to the river had turned a rusty gold in the fading light.

Rukia considered Orihime's bruise for a time, but soon found her mind wandering. Humans had a lot of freedom, she thought. A lot of opportunities. It was strange that they did not choose to take them.

She had been alive once, she knew, but the knowledge was only academic. She had no memories of that life. Many souls did remember, but not those with _reiatsu _strong enough to qualify them as _shinigami. _It was as if a more powerful soul were a trade off for memory, for humanity. Even if she could have remembered, she'd arrived in Soul Society as a babe in arms, which meant that he human life could have only lasted for a few months at most.

Still, she found herself wondering: what would it have been like to live as a human girl? To have had a family? Not to have learned to fight? Not to have learned to sacrifice?

"How long have you known Inoue?" she asked Ichigo. He was walking a few paces ahead of her, but, at the sound of her voice, he stopped and turned around. Now they were alone, he didn't bother with the scowls and retorts, though he seemed surprised that she had spoken:

"Three or four years, I suppose."

"How did you meet?"

"Through school." He started walking again and, boldly, Rukia fell into step beside him. "Except, maybe it was five years ago really. You see, a man was brought to my father's clinic. He was unconscious when he arrived. He'd been in a traffic accident and he never came round, but there was a girl with him: his little sister. She stayed with him right to the end. That girl; that was Orihime."

"It was her brother?"

"Yeah. I don't know anything about her parents. She doesn't live with them and I guess it was her brother who cared for her. Why?"

"It's alright. It probably doesn't matter." Rukia had walked on a few paces before she realised he had stopped. He was looking at her with a strange expression and suddenly she felt like she needed to be alone, to remind herself that she wasn't a part of his world: "Well, I guess I should probably be going now," she said and started to walk away from him. His voice, when he called her back, was surprisingly soft:

"Where are you going? Where can you go?"

"Are you curious?"

"No." A deep scowl hardened his features.

"Well then, I suppose I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes," he said.

That was the first day.


	7. Chapter 7

She could have stayed at Urahara's. That would have been sensible.

Kisuke Urahara was an exile. He had been banished from Soul Society for a crime which had resulted in the disappearance of several high-ranking officers from the Thirteen Court Guard Divisions. A century and a half, however, had obscured the details of his conviction and, amongst the _shinigami _or, at least, amongst those who frequented the world of the living, he was subject to an unspoken reprieve.

So it wasn't that she couldn't trust him. Indeed, she did trust him in one very important respect; he was discrete. And, since she was relying on him not to disclose her whereabouts, that was probably the most important quality he could possess. Yet, after leaving Ichigo's side she had returned to _Urahara Shoten _only to shower and change. A _gigai, _she had discovered, required as much care and attention as a human body.

"No-one in Soul Society will be able to trace your spiritual pressure while you are in that form," Urahara told her. He was standing outside one of the rooms in the store while she changed. Apparently, he had no qualms about shouting through the closed door: "You would be safe here."

"This will be the first place they come looking."

"I have no reason to hand you over to them, Kuchiki-_dono. _Moreover, you have no reason to run. They will only come looking for you if you don't report in."

She pushed the door open. He was standing in shadow in the corridor outside, that ridiculous hat still perched on his head and most of his face hidden either by its brim or the fan in his hand.

"I have lost my powers. What would I tell them?"

"At this point?" He smiled: "The truth."

"And Ichigo?"

"Who?"

"The boy."

"A human boy."

"Yes, just a human, but, the important thing, Urahara-_san, _is that if I wait a few days my strength will return; his strength will fade. No-one has to know."

"His strength may fade, but if it doesn't?"

"I don't know."

"Where are you going?" he asked as she marched past him: "You don't have anywhere to stay, Kuchiki-_dono." _He followed her to the door of the shop, which tinkled as she opened it. The 'closed' sign flapped in the sudden breeze. "Take care on the streets. In your condition, even humans could hurt you, not to mention hollows," he said.

"I'm no more or less safe than a human girl."

"No, indeed," he said, as he shut the door behind her.


	8. Chapter 8

She had climbed onto the roof and in through a window. An easy enough climb, though the pain in her ribs still hindered her. It had been worth it though, to find this small space that she had claimed as her own. There was just enough room for her to stretch out, and plenty of clean sheets and pillows. Currently, the only light she had came from the hollow sensor. It cast a pale glow over the tartan pyjamas she was wearing: someone else's clothes; someone else's house.

The sensor was set to retrieve transmissions from Soul Society and these appeared as messages on the screen. She was disappointed to discover that most of them were old, though there was one that caught her eye: the promotion of Abarai Renji, seventh seat of Eleventh Company, to Lieutenant of Sixth Company. Renji was a colleague of hers. A friend. At least, he had been, although that was nearly a century ago. They had drifted apart.

No doubt he had heard about her disgrace though. He would have every reason to distance himself from her now. Perhaps that was why she had been sent to the human world: because no-one in Soul Society could look her in the face; not after what she had done.

But these were feelings of self-pity, she realised, snapping the sensor shut and killing the light. She did not deserve or require sympathy. She had come here to prove herself and to break with the past, so why did it still feel so raw? Why did the memories return when she least expected them? She lay the sensor on her chest, listening to her own heartbeat. She had become skilled at closing the door on those memories, but when they came they could still tear her apart as brutally as they had done on that stormy night in the Rukon. Perhaps they never would fade. She thought she feared that more than anything: that they might bleed out and stain her life for all the centuries to come.

More than anything? Maybe not. Maybe the greater fear was that they would fade. And, when they did, he would fade with them.

She started as the sensor began to beep against her chest. She flicked open the screen and and had only enough time to register that there was a hollow coming. Coming fast.

She slid open the door of the closet she had curled up in.

In Ichigo's bedroom, the light was on. He was tangled in the duvet, beating to death an alarm clock that he clearly believed was the source of the beeping. As he looked up and saw her, a question formed on his lips, but it was too late. A hollow smashed through the wall to Rukia's left. At the very same time, her hand collided with ichigo's forehead. His soul came free of his body and the impact sent them both tumbling off the bed. By the time she had rolled on to one knee and turned back to the fight, he had placed himself between her and the demon.

She had never asked him to protect her.

The space was too small for a fight. When Ichigo leapt at the demon, the point of his katana scored a deep line through his bedroom ceiling. It still struck home, but, without his full strength behind the blow, it did nothing more than break a slither of bone off of the hollow's skull-like mask.

It howled in pain.

She could see the face behind the mask now: a human face, with black holes instead of eye sockets. Distant points of yellow light burned inside its skull.

With a last scream, it smashed through the exterior wall and disappeared into the night.

"Ichigo, let's go!" She ran towards the door. She'd taken hold of the handle and opened it before she realised he wasn't following. He was frozen on the spot, staring after the hollow: "Ichigo!"

"You told me they weren't human."

"They're not."

"You told me they were demons: demons that consume other souls."

"And that's true."

"Its face was human!" he cried. Suddenly he had closed the distance between them and taken her arm: "I knew him! That was Orihime's brother!"

"Ichigo" –

"You lied to me!"

"We have a rule amongst the _shinigami: _when you kill a hollow, you do so with a single strike to the head, from behind. It's efficient, but it also means you don't have to see who they were. All hollows were human once. For whatever reason, they remained earthbound after death. You've seen that each one has a hole in its chest where its heart once was? Their hearts are gone, and they must consume souls to survive now. Many hollows are drawn back to the souls they knew in their human existence. They will go after the ones they were closest to."

"Orihime." He hesitated: "But if I kill a human" –

"Your sword is a _zanpakuto. _In killing the hollow, it cleanses the soul and sends it for rebirth in Soul Society. A _shinigami _has two duties: to allow lost souls to pass over through _khonso, _the soul funeral, and to cleanse hollow spirits, the way you have. The way you will tonight."

He stared at the sword in his hand:

"It's going after Orihime?"

"Yes."

"Then we have to kill it."


	9. Chapter 9

**If you enjoyed this story, please check my profile page for the next in the series . It lists them in order so you shouldn't have any trouble finding them. Thanks!**


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